Sum Shit I Wrote Lyrics

Sum Shit I Wrote lyrics

Marks I erase like racism, I'm as large as a bigot

Groove is my escapism when I'm bubbly I just kick it

What I need from you is understanding that I'm standing

On my own two, down with my own crew



Toe cancer, I'm bad to the bone too, I'm prone to snap off

When I'm off that Cognac, I can't hold back like a masseuse

I get loose like a screw turned from left right to tight

When it's time for some action, I get Red's, "Tonight's Da Night"



An eye for an eye, a life for his wife

Dissected, I'm on some hi-tech shit computers want to bite

Your style is Pascal, mine is Basic and just instinct

I'm with the fam and ran scams, me and Murray got up on big links



And if knowledge is the key, goddammit I'm the locksmith

Started a missionary way on my life, the mic I rust like bostage

I switch styles like a channel with controls that are remote

Engage in a page and with words I elope



Walking down the aisles with styles I freak the viles

Anti-Nazi when I rocks like a Z-28

At any rate, brothers gain interest because I loaned them microphones

They couldn't house the shit so they had to rent to own



It's like that, coming from the go rapper

I wanna bone Jada Pinkett and that hoe Patra

So keep on and you don't, now come on

Ah keep on and you don't



Sometime when I'm alone in my room I stare at the wall

And in the back of my mind I hear a wack-ass rhyme

And I catch Alz-rhymers, then forget it, I get charged

Like a nigga in position with the stolen card the credit



Fuck flipping the script, the rap scene I'm trying to edit

My mellows call me, "Never", they be like, "Never's going to get it"

Never's too much, I'm much too, I do justice to poetics

That's why cats be like, "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"



Other studs come through to see what I am up to

They be on the dick of crew that be giving us sweet and buying us fruit

Like Kareem I got the hook up, brothers look out because they look

Rest in peace to 'Heavena', washing tons of rappers like Booker



Tee told me, "You gotta get out of the crib, get into the world"

How you going to come off with the style that's through?

It's like that, keep on, ha ha

It's like that, keep on



My foundation is in black block of niggas that rock they hat cock

I'm real like a fight with my rap, rappers I slap box

Back I got my rap, now get your glock out the black face

Got tall flavor with fat taste, the rat race is a rat race



Just 'cause you got Adidas with the fat laces

And the fro don't make you hip-hop, tou sorry excuse for funk rap

Why is there so many cranks trying to rhyme, yo funk that

The real shit's starting to come back



The go is where I'm from and where I'm at, jack

I started eating cat when I was 10

Before dinner I was getting big dog like Glen Robinson

I don't see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind



But comes a time when you gotta get off of that booty

The facts of life I didn't learn from watching Tootie

But living in the big city

But I still like Tootie cause she got big titties



My style is steep, I write rhymes on the incline

Splat guts plus fat nuts and lay up like a crib line

I'm slamming, jamming on the one

I'm a bad man, you're just a good son, come on